


In the Dead of Night

by SpiritWorld



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But Merlin definitely wants something more, Canon Era, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, and so does Arthur even if he won't admit it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritWorld/pseuds/SpiritWorld
Summary: "You're worried your father will find some reason to barge in here in the middle of the night and find me, aren’t you?" Merlin challenged, his lips pulling up into a soft smirk. Arthur thanked the heavens he wasn’t making direct eye contact with the man anymore."No."Yes.Arthur's been having trouble sleeping as of late and waking up to Merlin still laying in his bed in the middle of the night wasn't helping the matter. Merlin thinks he worries too much.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 277





	In the Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my beta Lauryn @eternally--exhausted on Tumblr for helping me with this fic. I've been in a bit of a writing slump and really needed the support.

Falling asleep had not come easy to Arthur in the past month. Well, staying asleep had been the difficult part. Most nights, he would awaken to a darkened room, unable to discern if his eyes were still closed or indeed wide open as they took their time to adjust. Sleep would allude him for several hours thereafter. So, he stayed awake, lying motionless in his bed awaiting the first rays of sunlight that would signal a new day. In those hours before dawn, he was left alone with thoughts he normally never bothered to entertain.

It seemed as if more trouble than usual was finding its way into Camelot as of late. Large groups of bandits hovered at the borders, their attacks on outlying villages growing steadily more aggressive. The enemies of his father had become bolder with each passing day as well. They now seemed to be making their appearances weekly, if not sometimes twice a week, slinking their way into the citadel to try their hand at disposing of the current King. Arthur couldn’t remember the last time the castle had been as heavily guarded as it was now. 

Though Uther would never admit to such a thing, Arthur had seen how uneasy the man had become after the third attempt on his life had been made within two weeks. He had rarely seen his father so paranoid, eyes scanning the room suspiciously at every opportunity when he thought no one was looking. The guards and knights were all on edge as well. Many sleep-deprived and exhausted from the additional patrols and duties they had been assigned.

Something about it all felt odd to him. His father had been driven nearly mad by the current events. Even his most distinguished knights were nearly useless during training, their movements sluggish and simple. It all seemed almost calculated as if someone had meticulously planned out every hour of the last few weeks. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if something bigger was to come. If this was just the beginning of a great tragedy that was to befall the kingdom. He quickly pushed the thought aside. It was nonsense. He was simply stressed by the situation and imagining things. That had to be it, surely.

The Prince screwed his eyes shut once more, wishing he could will himself unconscious if only it would stop him from having to listen to his own intrusive thoughts. His efforts lasted all of ten seconds. Uncomfortable in his current position, he rolled over, flinging his arm out to the side and connecting with a warm sliver of exposed skin instead of the soft sheets he was accustomed to. His eyes shot open, all hopes of sleeping once again vanquished from his mind.

Right. That had been a new development. This. _Them_.

Arthur stilled as Merlin began to move underneath the weight of his arm. Several seconds of unsettling silence passed before steady breathing gave way to soft snores. The other man mumbled something under his breath, too quiet for Arthur to make out any actual words. The servant was now laying on his side facing towards him, eyes still closed and unaware of the turmoil stirring inside of the Prince. Arthur found himself wondering if he looked much the same when he slept. Innocent and vulnerable in a way he could never be when he was awake.

The smirk that lingered on Merlin’s lips during the day was nowhere to be seen. The muscles in his face were no longer strained, allowed to rest from their daily use. He seemed more at peace than Arthur could remember him being as of recent. It hadn’t escaped his notice that his servant’s behavior had been strange lately. Stranger than usual anyhow.

The moonlight filtered in through the parted curtains that Merlin hadn’t bothered to close properly earlier that night. Arthur found it difficult to turn away now, eyes fixated on the marks scattered across the curve of his pale shoulder. Some were freckles, some moles, and others scars. He felt the sudden urge to trace each one of them with his fingers, the muscles in his arm twitching as if to move to do so. Instead, he removed the arm that had been lightly thrown over Merlin’s torso slowly, careful not to brush against him too hard. The servant wasn’t even meant to be in his chambers. In fact, he had never stayed until tonight.

They had fallen into the same routine since, whatever this was between them, had begun three weeks prior. Merlin would prepare him for bed as he had done many times before, attempting to rile him up on a topic that scarcely mattered. Arthur begrudgingly admitted that he usually succeeded and found himself more often than not in a heated debate that ended in no agreement on either side. When all his duties were done, and their pointless argument had come to an end, Merlin would linger at the edge of his bed, not close enough to be in arms reach unless Arthur were to sit up and stretch to his side.

Even after several nights of the same song and dance between them, Merlin’s hands still twitched nervously at his side in anticipation. He never trusted himself to look the man in the eye in those few fleeting seconds. Without fail, Arthur would lean over to pull him in, one hand wrapping firmly around Merlin's forearm and yanking him down into a searing kiss. They were always rough and uncoordinated, Arthur too focused on the low heat pooling in his stomach than to care that Merlin, at times, bit his lip hard enough to draw blood or pulled at his hair too tightly.

It ended the same every time, both men were worn out and breathing heavily as they lay above the sheets with their limbs entangled in one another. They never said a word nor bothered to move. When Arthur inevitably woke again later that night, Merlin was always long gone. After several failed attempts of ignoring the sickening feeling churning in his stomach, he would divert his thoughts to the troubles plaguing the Kingdom until the sun rose. He had gotten used to feigning sleep when Merlin came to wake him again a short time later.

But, tonight was different. Arthur had woken up to Merlin sprawled across the left side of his bed, sound asleep and looking every bit as if he belonged there. It was too much of a risk for him to leave now with the extra set of guards positioned outside the door. 

This had gone far beyond what Arthur had meant for it to be. They had both agreed that the sex was nothing more than an outlet to the immense pressure mounting against them as Camelot's enemies grew with time. It was a distraction, one they vowed not to acknowledge outside of the confines of his chambers. Despite Merlin’s evident lack of filter, he never spoke a word of their encounters to anyone.

Arthur found he could not stop thinking about his manservant at the most inconvenient of times. His mind often wandered during the more mundane council meetings to the image of Merlin laid out beneath him, lips swollen and slightly bruised, face dusted a deep red. More than once he had been called on to comment on an important matter during his musings. In those moments, he could only thank his years of diplomatic training for helping him to keep a straight face as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Those thoughts continued to haunt him as he went about his day, no matter how often he tried to shove them down. It had not escaped his attention either that Merlin had been avoiding him unless his presence was required.

Arthur knew where this was going, he had seen it happen to other nobles in his court before, who took servants as their bedwarmers. It would never end well for them, a Prince and his servant. He had come to the realization that, when it all inevitably went to hell, he would lose one of the only friends he’d ever had. The thought left him feeling uneasy, a numbing sensation seizing his chest. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, searching his mind for any other topic that would prove effective in distracting him for the time being.

"Mm, why aren't you sleeping?" Arthur felt his body jump in surprise, heart racing at the sudden noise filling the room. Merlin's eyes were only half-open, the side of his face still embedded in the oversized crimson pillow that happened to be Arthur's favorite. He looked utterly ridiculous.

"Because you snore louder than a boar, _Merlin_ ," the Prince snapped groggily, voice rough although he had been awake for some time now. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't with you thinking so loud next to me," Merlin complained, forcing himself up a bit to prop his head upon his fist. "Out with it. What's the matter?" Even in the darkness of the room, Arthur could make out the tired concern in his friend's eyes. Even half-asleep, the man refused to leave him be. Arthur turned away, pushing himself up on his elbows into a sitting position.

"Nothing. I must be feeling a bit... unwell," he offered, hoping Merlin would believe his hurried explanation and lay back down. However, he should have known not to hold out on that hope for long.

"You're worried your father will find some reason to barge in here in the middle of the night and find me, aren’t you?" Merlin challenged, his lips pulling up into a soft smirk. Arthur thanked the heavens he wasn’t making direct eye contact with the man anymore.

"No." _Yes_.

"Don't you worry.” Merlin answered, “At least the pyre is a nice, warm alternative this time of year. Or maybe he'll take an axe to my head instead. What do you think?" Arthur felt his jaw tighten involuntarily the way it always did when he was irritated. He moved swiftly to grab the pillow from under Merlin, pulling it out and striking him across his torso with it much to the other man's amusement.

"I think you need to shut up and go to sleep." Merlin, because he lived to infuriate him as Arthur was convinced, simply laughed at him.

"Can't very well do that when you’re thrashing me with a pillow, _Sire_ ," he spat, bringing his hands up in front of him to block another hit.

Arthur dropped the pillow in the space between them, leaning back against the headboard with a soft thud. He could feel Merlin squirming beside him as he too pushed himself into a sitting position. 

"Arthur-"

"He wouldn't execute you unless I asked him to." The words rushed out of him before he could properly think them through. "Things like this have been known to occur on occasion," he added, hoping it would deter whatever question the man had wanted to ask.

Merlin let out a scandalized gasp beside him, letting a hand fly up to his mouth in mock horror. "You don't mean to tell me you've been sleeping with George this entire time, have you?" Arthur was seconds away from throttling him with the pillow again.

"On second thought, I will ask my father to try you for soliciting the crowned Prince," he quipped, fingers digging into the sheets on either side of him.

Arthur felt the shift in Merlin's demeanor almost immediately as his laughter trailed off. An uncomfortable silence hung over them again. Arthur kept his gaze fixed on his lap. "What's the matter, really?" Merlin questioned again, the humor present only seconds before now gone. Arthur hated that he asked, that he cared. It would make this easier if he wouldn't.

_You. This. These bloody feelings._

"It's... the attacks. I'm worried for my father and Camelot." There. It wasn't a lie.

He could feel Merlin's eyes boring into the side of his head, undoubtedly debating if he had been honest or not. He must have passed whatever lucrative test the man had put him through because a few seconds later, Merlin shuffled closer to him.

"You feel it too then? That there's something bigger coming?"

"Yes,” he responded truthfully this time, not knowing what more to say on the matter. It was a mistake to turn to face Merlin, whose features, in his current position, were now illuminated by the stray moonlight in the room. His weary, blue eyes watched him unapologetically, mouth turned down in a tight-lipped frown. He felt himself unable to move, his mind screaming for him to look away and end this once and for all.

A soft, cold hand came up to rest against his jaw, the gentleness of the touch a stark contrast to their usual interactions. Arthur exhaled sharply through his nose, one hand flying up to wrap itself around Merlin’s wrist, thumb grazing the back of his hand. He could do it now. Put an end to this madness and tell Merlin to sleep in the Antechamber until daybreak. He could…

Though he expected it, the soft touch of Merlin’s lips against his still startled him. The hand that was still holding on to Merlin tightened momentarily while the other man chuckled silently into his mouth. Arthur’s breathing stuttered as Merlin took his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently in a way that never failed to drive Arthur mad. It was moving slowly, too slow for his liking. Slow indicated a familiarity he refused to acknowledge.

No doubt sensing his panic, Merlin let his hands wander to the back of his head, bringing them closer together. A low moan escaped his throat as he felt long, deft fingers raking through his hair, tugging softly. The awkward angle strained Arthur’s neck, but he found that he cared little in the moment. His lips buzzed, the taste of crushed herbs and last night’s supper lingering on the tip of his tongue. Any remaining coherent thoughts that had been present in his mind evaporated as Merlin moved impossibly closer to him, sliding his lips away from his mouth and trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the stretch of Arthur’s neck.

“ _Merlin_ -“ Arthur hissed, words failing him as he placed both hands low against Merlin’s hips to steady himself. He struggled to keep himself grounded as his servant took his time licking a path from the base of his neck to the tip of his ear before pressing a soft kiss against his jaw. Arthur grunted in confusion as Merlin’s arms moved to encircle his shoulders. The other man pressed his face into the side of Arthur’s neck, lips resting half open against his skin.

He let out a surprised yelp when the man that had been kissing him senseless mere seconds before swiftly shoved him down onto the bed. Merlin landed on top of him at a slight angle, his arms still anchored around Arthur’s upper body as if being even a hair’s breadth away from him was unthinkable. Their bare chests were molded against each other, the additional heat guarding him against the cool night air. Arthur was certain that Merlin could feel his heart making its best attempt to beat out of his chest, as their heavy breathing echoed across his chambers. Merlin remained glued to him as the minutes passed by, face still tucked firmly into the crook of his neck.

“Merlin, what on Earth are you doing?” Arthur asked finally, turning his head down to where his nose was now nuzzled in the man’s disheveled hair. The scent of sawdust and Earth pervaded his senses, and he found himself leaning further into Merlin’s hair unthinkingly.

“Trying to get you to sleep,” Merlin replied, his words muffled as he spoke them into Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur’s confusion turned to amusement, a short, pointed laugh escaping him that sounded much too loud in the still night. “You expect me to sleep? After that?” He asked incredulously.

“I meant to distract you. Got a bit carried away,” Merlin mumbled, finally releasing Arthur from his death grip. The servant slotted himself against Arthur’s side, one hand resting palm open on his chest and his head pillowed underneath the Prince’s chin. The domesticity of it all should have sent the warning bells in his mind into motion again. But, as he waited for the sick feeling to take over as it usually did in moments like this, nothing came. His skin burned where it pressed against Merlin’s, sending a pleasant heat cascading along the length of his body. Arthur hesitated briefly before slinging an arm around the other man’s shoulder, resting his hand lightly above his shoulder blade and pulling him in closer. Merlin chuckled against his skin, shallow breaths tickling his chest. Arthur shivered, allowing his eyes to finally flutter shut.

Come morning, when the quiet night would fade into the commotion of the day, he would probably regret what he had allowed to be set into motion. The thoughts concerning his servant, normally littered with lewd images and lined with intense desire, now lingered on the soft kisses and tender touches that had set his skin ablaze all the same. Arthur winced, his heart constricting as his mind, once again, wandered to the possible consequences of his actions.

“No more thinking, Arthur. Think in the morning,” came Merlin’s frustrated, slurred reply. Arthur berated himself silently for contemplating their relationship like some love-struck fool (which he most definitely was _not_ ).

“Sleep, Merlin,” he whispered, rubbing circles into the man’s shoulder absentmindedly. Merlin grunted in what he could only assume to be approval, allowing himself to relax fully against him now. The familiar fog that exhaustion brought with it settled upon Arthur, his thoughts losing meaning as he felt himself fade in and out of consciousness.

_In the morning._ For the first time since his sleepless nights had begun, he found himself wishing that the morning would never come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and as always I appreciate comments because they really motivate me especially when I find it difficult to take the time to write. Go check me out on Tumblr @Meteorjam for more Merlin content.


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